I've never done this before. I have an hour to kill. Spur of the moment. Just walk in.
So I go into the Salon yesterday and its this awesome guy who I'm pretty sure was a flaming homosexual yet happened to be wonderful at dying hair. And he looks at me and goes "So girl, what's it gonna be todaaay?" And I pull out this picture and in my head, I'm running through all the things Kiara's told me to ask for in hair dye, trying to wrap my head around the fact that for the first time in my entire life I'm going to dye my hair.
Dark Brown/Auburn. And its going to be good. Kiara said that color would make my eyes pop, and to make sure I ask for just a little red b/c apparently too much will just make it all look wrong. Then wait, all of a sudden I've got eyebrows to worry about and what if they don't match my new hair color holy crap im going to have to dye them too and if i dont i'll be the freak with weird eyebrows and too-red dark hair.
Memories. stabbing me. Talked about dying my hair before but never followed through with it. The curls, the smiles, the "what-ifs," the possibilities that used to exist and never came to fruition, riding in the car with the windows down feeling so happy and light like nothing would ever shatter. Nothing could go wrong. Then out of nowhere I'm stripped of the security I thought I had and the flattery and the deceit slam into me like a ton of bricks and suddenly I just want to dye my hair anything and be totally new, something different and unrecognizable. I was doing fine. When did I get here?
Kenny's saying something and I snap back. He's holding up different colors and telling me which will make my eyes pop. Which go well with my skin tone, and not to worry, he's done this for 14 years and knows what he's doing. Deep breaths, just let Kenny tell you what looks best and quit worrying. Jump, don't think just jump. Just go.
So I pick a color. Kenny's "very pleased" with my decision and starts mixing the colors and washing my hair and I close my eyes and try to focus on eveything new in life. Every new start. The reasons for the new starts are like rays of sunshine peeking through my clouds today. I wonder what else is out there; its a big ol' world, ya know. Kenny's talking about California; I guess I told him I was going there soon and he's suddenly filling my head with places to go, things to see, mountains to climb, etc.
The dye's in. I'm getting a sweet little head massage simultaneously.
"So, why did you want to dye your hair?" Mmmm. Loaded question, Kenny.
"I just needed a change."
"Why did you need a change?" You don't quit, do ya Kenny?
So I start rambling about moving and graduating from college a year ago and getting a job up here and getting settled in... he's buying it...
"You want a change from all that? Those sound like good things." Dude. You're killing me. So fine, I'll become that girl who tells her life's tragedies to her hairstylist. I can totally do that.
"I just went through this break up. So I figured I'd dye my hair. I always wanted to, and now I just kinda feel like, 'why not,' ya know?"
"Oooooooh, and there it is.. Girl. I gotcha. I totally get it."
No, Kenny. You don't. But thanks for playing.
So the red of the dye hits my skin and it starts to stain my forehead and looks a bit like blood. Not cool. This was supposed to just be a quick little salon visit, not Ellen's vampire transformation. Next thing I know, I'll have fangs. Maybe I'm just too pale. Maybe I need to seriously hit the beach this weekend. I should work out more before I do that. I should run more, but wait I don't have time for anything and I feel like I'm in this race against time, where one day I'll be morbidly obese because I decided at 23 to keep myself busy 24/7 and not exercise. Spiralling into this. Losing control, and now there's red on my face and I can't get it off and the insecurities are slamming me again and I'm gripping for something that's not there - something I thought was there all along but never really existed in the first place...
Wow. Low. Feeling like the control is all gone, like the safety of someone else is all gone, like my world is cracked open and bleeding there's no tourniquet in sight. My God, I'm not even asking to be healed, I just want a little relief for a while.
So its done. I go back to get my hair washed again and Kenny gently removes all the red stains from my face. He rinses it out and from the corner of my eye, he's smiling. Actually, smiling is an understatement. That man has "happy" written all over his face.
"I love it." He didn't even sound like he was trying to flatter me; he just genuinely sounded like an artist who was pleased with his work.
Still haven't seen the finished product. He blow-drys my hair and styles it and I look in the mirror. It's a deep brown with hints of auburn throughout, and my eyebrows look completely natural with it, and my eyes are blue and I feel ... peaceful. New.
I love it, too.
